Keep Smiling Through
by Br0k3n K3yb04rd
Summary: On a day of reminiscing, Ford teaches Bill a song that reminds him of someone. One-shot.


Ford hadn't been making much progress on the portal that day. He used to try to ignore his birthday by letting the days bleed together, where it worked as only a minor emotional speed-bump, but McGucket reminded him of its arrival. So it was inevitable his mind wandered to Stanley and how they had grown apart, and despite the anger he still carried for his brother, a profound sadness and loneliness was left inside him. Soon he found himself wandering to the piano in the attic, mind wandering to simpler times. Bill, in the back of his mind, spoke with thin patience: "Taking a lot of breaks today, aren't you, Sixer."

And then, with aloof curiosity, "What're you doing."

Ford pointedly ignored him, and instead opted to drop back the piano cover and run his fingers over the ivory keys. Having six fingers made reaching the keys easier, as the kids in their high school music class used to complain. The memory came, unbidden, as he absentmindedly rubbed his cold hands together.

"That freak has an unfair advantage! If I had six fingers, I'd be ten times as good as he is!"

Ford could usually ignore statements like this, but sleepless nights working on the perpetual motion machine made him irritable. It was no excuse to turn to violence at that moment, but Stan was a bad influence. It was enough to bruise the side of the kid's face, and Ford remembered thinking with satisfaction how Stan didn't need to protect him anymore.

Only that feeling dissipated when the principal called them both to the office, and the principal erroneously called in Stan.

"But-" Ford was going to quietly protest, before Stan elbowed him in the gut and walked into the office.

Stan was suspended, but you've thought he won a metal as he exited the office. As they walked home from school, Ford was unable to choose between scolding his brother for taking his punishment, and thanking him.

"Don't sweat it," Stan said. "A suspension would've killed you, nerd. Remember that one time we had to take a week off to visit Grandma? I don't wanna deal with your moody, suspended ass all week." He laughed heartily and clapped Ford on the shoulder. "Besides, you FINALLY gave someone a knuckle sandwich! Time for us to go on a night on the town! You're paying, though."

"But this is lying!" Ford protested. "How can you be okay with this?!"

"Because I'm always gonna save your ass when you screw up, poindexter. You'd do the same for me. What the heck else are brothers for?"

Emerging from the memory, Ford hadn't been prepared for the emotion that caught in his throat, and he was forced to pause and wipe a tear from his eye.

Bill rolled his eye at the emotion, and Ford cringed in embarrassment. As much he appreciated his muse, he was never alone in his thoughts. He cleared his throat.

"We should really get back to working on the portal," Bill nudged. Ford couldn't help but admire his friend's dedication, but it was unwelcome right now.

"I know," Ford sighed in defeat. "Forgive me, Bill, but I'm only human. I... Might need a break today. I promise I will get straight to work again tomorrow."

Bill's voice seemed to uncharacteristically soften at that. "I understand. Do you want me to leave, or?..."

"No, please, you can stay. I just need to sort out some... Feelings." Ford sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"... Right." Bill positioned Ford's hands onto the keys, giving his arms that odd sock-puppet feeling. "So, IQ, teach me how humans play this thing."

Ford smiled slightly, fingers grazed over the keys, and he played a few scales to warm up. Soon it built into a song with a familiar melody, and without much thought he began,

"We'll meet again,

Don't know where, don't know when,

But I know we'll meet again some sunny day." His voice filled the room, vibrating with feelings.

"So keep smiling through, just like you always do,

Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away."

The song tapered off into silence. His cheeks warmed as Bill praised, "Wow, that was great! Really, is there anything you can't do?"

"Would you like to try?" Ford offered, aware the dream muse had little chance of playing a piano before.

"You'll have to teach me," Bill said.

"Deal," Ford said, the corner of his mouth quirked.

They alternated on who controlled his hands, Ford only taking over to correct Bill's form, or to demonstrate the next step. Bill displayed a remarkable lack of skill at the piano that Ford found oddly endearing, and soon he forgot entirely about his brother. "No, that's C sharp, not C," he corrected.

After several hours of this, Bill was getting antsy. "You'll just have to keep trying," Ford said encouragingly.

Bill laughed through his mouth, a strange sensation. "Yeah, guess you're right, IQ. Hey, you up for working on that portal now? I've gotta regain my pride somehow after that fantastic failure."

Ford felt his heart sink. "I don't know..." He still wasn't up for it.

"Hey, I'd go work on it myself, but I really need to you be able to do anything, Fordsy." Bill sighed. "I'd hate to push you."

Guilt gnawed at Ford.

"Sure. All right." He quietly allowed Bill to take him back down to the lab.


End file.
